by Deb Kemper
The elder arrived at his table. “Beg yer pardon, sire. I’m Benny Milligan.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Tha’ there’s me mate, Tommy.” He glanced around and back at Garth. “Ye are The Mackintosh, are ye not?”
“Aye, what of it?” Garth growled. He lifted his cup to sip the mead.
“Well, sir, Jeremy Collin sent us….”
Garth lowered the tankard and grinned. “Sit, Benny and wave Tommy this way. Why’d Collin do a thing like tha’?”
Benny raised a hand to Tommy, who duly followed. “He asked us to ride behind ye, guardin’ yer back, sir.”
Tommy pulled out a chair and sat by Benny, with a nod to Garth. “Sir.”
“Why’d ye accept the job?” Garth watched both men carefully. They were too nervous.
“Owe ’im.” Benny surveyed the room, behind them, then leaned toward Garth. “There’s a man near the bar, well dressed, a bit of a dandy. Do ye ken who he be?”
“Nay, not one o’ mine.” Garth took another bite of haggis. It was almost as good as Millie made, at home. He chewed slowly, watching the room.
“He’s mighty interested in ye, sire. We’ll step outside and wait fer ye. Collin said to stay a little behind ye, so there’s where we’ll be. If ye’ve need of us, whistle, we’ll be right along.” Benny rose and dipped his head to Garth. Tommy trailed behind.
Garth pushed the empty plate away and drained the mead. He set his tankard down and retucked his sghian dubh into the laced brogue. He stood and caught the woman’s eye as he clanked coins on the scratched tabletop.
She scurried to his side. “How was dinner, then, sir?” She scooped the silver off the table and into a pocket on her kirtle.
Garth’s voice dropped below the general roar of the room. “Worth a sovereign to ye, to show me the back exit, lass.”
She looped her arm through his and led him that direction. “Make like we’re going upstairs and I’ll get ye past ’im.” She pawed the front of Garth’s shirt and raised her voice. “Come along wi’ Annie, up to me room, love, just fer a bit, before ye go. I’ll treat ye real nice.” She wove a path through the tight press of drinkin’ men, toward the back stairs, amidst a few hoots and catcalls.
Garth played along and found a chance to get a good look at the dandified gent, near the slab of plank that served as a bar. Complete stranger. He avoided Garth’s eyes and kept his gaze trained on the barman across from him.
Once at the door, Garth slipped Annie a sovereign. She pocketed the coin and took the stairs. Garth slid through the door and out into the crisp, clean air. He took a deep breath and trotted to the barn for Coot.
****
Coot left the road two miles beyond the public house. Garth pulled up the stallion and stepped him off, into the edge of a burn, skirting parallel to the dirt path. He kept a steady trot along for several miles then regained the path. He failed to detect anyone in his wake, so he let Coot have his head and run.
An hour passed and Garth reined up near a crossroad and studied the area. The night was still, the air chilled. He could see his breath when he exhaled. Coot sent up a cloud of steam when he snorted and pawed the ground. Garth backed the horse into a nearby copse. He waited a few minutes, patting Coot’s flanks. When he heard no pursuers, they took the crossroad at Coot’s top speed.
Garth bent low over the warhorse’s neck and kept his body molded to the stallion’s flexing muscles. A shot fired close to his head. Another narrowly missed his arm. He felt a tug on his blowing cloak and was sure to have a hole where the musket ball tore through. Still Coot ran, with his mighty head stretched out.
Where’re my bloody bodyguards? Mayhap they were on MacGregor’s payroll, after all.
Keeping low, Garth drew his dirk from under his arm and a pistol, as pounding hooves closed the distance behind him. He tried to peer back but couldn’t make out anything with only lunar brightness. Friend or foe would all look the same.
He glanced once more and caught the glint off a raised sword.
His attention focused on what was behind him. He failed to see a man, with a thick staff, step out of the forest, waiting for Garth to come alongside.
His attacker swung the heavy pole over his head and knocked Garth from Coot’s back. The Mackintosh landed, in the dusty road, but rolling in a single motion, he was on his feet and laid a pistol between the man’s eyes.
The Mackintosh drawled a warning. “Don’t think ye wanna go fer the dirk.”
The shorter man tried to back up a step. Garth moved with him. “Who are ye and what do ye want?”
The man’s eyes bulged. He stumbled. Garth followed him to the ground. “Who are ye?”
“John MacGregor sent a group of us to sidetrack ye.”
Garth stood and offered the man his hand, pulling him to his feet. “I see. Well ye did a fine job of it.” He loosed a low whistle, hoping Coot would return. He dared not look around for the horse.
Garth caught the man’s eyes shifting and ducked as a claymore sliced the air above him. He fired one shot at the man who hit him and dropped the gun. He whirled on the aggressor behind him, drawing his sword, as the man’s claymore sliced through the air again. The laird ducked, lowered his head, and plowed into the man’s soft belly. Once on the ground, Garth hit the man a solid right to the chin, leaving him unconscious. The Mackintosh rolled, back to his feet in a sweet fluid movement and ran into a wall. At least the shield that laid him out, felt like a wall.
Where’s that damn horse?
It was his last conscious thought.
Chapter 38
Jeremy Collin helped his wife, Ceidra, from her place in the carriage. “Come down, my sweet. Watch yer step.” He caught her in his arms and sneaked a peek at his son asleep in a sling across his mother’s small torso. He laid a kiss on her lips. “Now, to fetch Lady Mackintosh.”
He turned to the coach and assisted Amalie’s descent. He bowed slightly, as her feet touched the ground. “Ma’am, I have no idea which entrance it is that we stand before, but I’ve rung the bell. Someone’ll be along shortly. Ye ladies go inside and I’ll get the children and maids out.”
On the opposite side, Perry caught Gerty by the waist and swung her down. A giggle escaped the maid. She slapped a hand over her mouth, quickly. Perry blushed in the dark. The door opened to Millie and two footmen, to unload the carriage and the coach.
Collin supervised the process, directing the footmen, with their cargo. “Pray, that’s the laird’s own trunk. It’ll be going to the master’s chamber along with Lady Mackintosh’s trunks.”
The butler, Sanders, corrected the insolent Irishman, “Sir, I’ve waited table and tended thousands of events long before ye left yer mam’s tit. I ken the trunks’ destination.”
Collin chuckled. “Ye have me there, Sanders. I’m a warrior, not a tender of underthings. Can I leave ye to sort this out, then?” He slapped the tall thin butler on the back. “Good man!”
Amalie gathered the children, like a hen with her chicks round her. “Darlin’s, Millie’s here to care for us. We’ll see where your rooms are, get you fed, and into bed shortly.”
Collin entered the mansion to find his wife enthralled with the ceiling. He glanced up at the intricate art work, mumbling, “My, my, my, will ye look at tha’?”
“Isn’t it beautiful, Jeremy?” Ceidra leaned into his embrace.
“It is that, lovely. It’ll be prettier in daylight, but never as pretty as ye.” He squeezed her shoulders and loosed her to lift Seth. “And ye, little man, need to do as Mam tells ye.”
Millie rushed into the foyer. “The dining hall is set. Come eat and we’ll get ye to bed, as quick as we can.” She waved her arms, herding the clan to the well-laden table.
****
Garth moaned, face down in the dirt, and tried to rise. His hands were bound behind his back.
His guard stood and kicked him squarely in the ribs. “Lay back, Mackintosh. Don’t struggle. It’ll do ye no good.”
Garth heeded, rotating his head to try and get his bearings. A fire burned behind him, the heat welcome. He raised his shoulders enough to shake his head and stretch.
He rolled to his back and tugged on the ropes binding his arms.
He found them constricting and uttered, “What do ye want wi’ me?”
“The MacGregor wants a word.” His guard growled.
“He could ask. I’d’ve obliged ’im. We been friends fer years.” Garth flexed his arms and wrists to loosen the ropes. He felt his skin chafing. May be a good thing, that. The swelling could loosen the lash…or cut my flesh to ribbons. Where’s that damn horse?
He lay still a moment and closed his eyes, listening to horses tethered nearby. No Coot. He took a deep breath and smelled the man who kicked him. Daft bugger needs a bath. The fire, a few steps away, felt warm to the soles of his brogues. Handy, that, if I could just reach a coal and burn away the cords. Where’s that horse?
He heard a distant whinny. Sounds like Coot. Wha’s he doing out there? He’s supposed to get me outta….
The sudden thunder of hooves straight out of the darkness brought the guard around. The coal black horse merged with the shadows in the deepening gloom. The guard stood and grabbed his claymore.
Coot rose on his hind legs and leapt into the man, head thrown back. The guard fell, screaming in terror. His sword flew from his grasp and into the fire. Coot thrashed the man until he was bloody and motionless.
Garth watched, in awe. It had been years since he witnessed a horse killing a man and never so close.
Coot shook off the furor, circling the camp, first at a trot, then a lope, his great black head swinging side to side.
“It’s about time ye showed up.” Garth struggled to sit and scooted toward the dead man.
Coot backed away, into the shadows again, snorting.
Garth found a dirk on the guard’s body and managed to get the rope to fray. He worked on it a moment, before snapping free.
He stood and rearmed himself from the guard’s stash. He found his own claymore and dirk. He patted his sghian dubh, still sheathed in his boot. As he spun to leave the campsite, a hand gripped his shoulder.
It was the dandy from the public house.
Garth stepped out of reach and drew his dirk. “Ye have a moment to tell me what ye want wi’ me, before ye meet yer maker.”
The dapper young man dropped his gaze and chuckled. “I’ve heard o’ ye fer years. Mam goes on about what a brave, handsome man ye are. She’s plannin’ on marryin’ ye, then ye took the Jew whore to yer bed.” He glanced up.
Garth hit him in the mouth. The dandy’s head snapped back, but he kept to his feet. Garth clipped his chin and he fell to his knees, still conscious.
Garth leaned toward him and growled. “Ye have anythin’ to say to me, ye show respect, whelp.” He waited for the lad to rise.
The Cameron heir stood to his feet. “Well, tha’ makes ye a big man, I’m not even armed.” He spread his arms to prove he didn’t carry a weapon.
“Ye’re a fool then. What do ya want?” Garth advanced a step.
“Yer title, yer support behind The MacGregor, and yer assistance, when called upon.” The Cameron heir grinned, his lip spurting blood, his teeth bloody.
“Go to hell.” Garth grabbed a handful of the Cameron man’s golden hair and snatched him backward. “Ye go back to yer new daddy and tell ’im I won’t play. Ye ken?” He released the man and stepped away, turning his back, in disdain.
Garth heard the metallic noise of a pistol cocked.
“I can’t do tha’, Mackintosh. I promised Mam I’d bring ye in.” He grasped Garth’s shoulder again.
The Mackintosh whirled, thrusting down with the dirk and opened up the belly of the Cameron heir. “That’s fer callin’ my wife names.” He leaned down and cleaned his knife on the dandy’s fine coat, as Cameron gasped his last breath. He spotted two more pistols in the man’s belt. “Pity ye don’t have enough sense to use yer weapons, lad. There’s no second chance.”
He whistled. Coot dashed in to meet him. Garth mounted the saddle and kicked the stallion. Coot dropped his head and ran like fury.
****
Collin grabbed a cold oat cake, from the pie safe to break his fast. He clutched it in his teeth as he poured hot water over the tea leaves in his stein.
Millie glared. “Take a moment, sit down, and break a proper fast. Ye’ll make yerself ill livin’ on the run, Jeremy.”
He turned to her with a smile, bit off a piece of the bread and chewed. “The ship’ll be in shortly. I must hie to the docks to collect Lady Mackintosh’s family.”
“How will ye ken who they are?” Millie turned a frown on him. “Shan’t ye take our mistress, wi’ ye to meet ’em.”
Collin chewed another bite and sought a way to tell Millie he wouldn’t miss them. “There’s no mistaken her Papa. He has the same red hair.”
“Did our lady tell ye tha’?” Millie spoke to his back as he refilled his teacup.
“I ken her family from Ireland.” He sipped the steaming brew.
Millie tilted her head to one side. “How’s it ye know them?”
“Ye don’t ken, do ye? Has milady never tol’ ye?” Collin smiled through his awkwardness.
“What?” Her frustration increased.
Collin glanced around, at the remainder of the kitchen staff and strode to Millie’s side. He placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned close. “Our lady is related to my family through marriage. Her stepmother is my mommer’s cousin.” He stepped back.
“Well, huh, she didn’t tell me that.” Millie’s eyes narrowed. “There’s more ye’re keepin’ to yerself, Jeremy Collin.”
“Aye, ma’am, but I think it needs to come from Lady Macintosh. Perhaps ye could attend her this mornin’—alone.” He drained his stein and gently placed it by the sink, where a page prepared to scrub dishes. “Now, I’m off to the dock to fetch our guests.” He hurried away.
Millie watched him go and wondered what on earth the secret was about. Well, I’ll be up there, as soon as it’s a decent time, open her curtains, and find out about this great mystery. Millie punched down fluffy, risen dough, in the large wooden bowl she’d brought from home. She swept it into a mound again with her large flat hands, and laid a damp cloth over the top. She washed her hands at the sink filled with dishwater and dried them.
A glance at the hall clock told her Amalie would be stirring. She set off, up the stairs to see to her. Gerty could tend all the children. She’d have her hands full, in the nursery helping nurse get their tea.
****
Amalie sat on the side of the bed and eased her feet into the wool mules Garth bought for her, on a trip they took to Edinburgh. She slowly stood, holding the underside of her great belly, to waddle to the privy. She checked her husband’s pillow. He still had not come.
Where is he? Adonai, please keep him safe and bring my family across the sea safely.
Mille quietly opened the door. Seeing the empty bed, she called out. “My darlin’ are ye alright?”
“Aye, Millie.” Amalie rounded the corner. She slowly sat in a bedside chair.
“Yer tea’ll be up directly, milady. Collin just left to fetch yer family. He wanted to be early, in case they arrived sooner than expected.” Millie approached her and rested her hand on Amalie’s shoulder. “Is there somethin’ ye’re needin’ to tell me?”
Amalie glanced up and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh! Millie, I’m so sorry! I wanted to speak with you yesterday, but with all the hubbub there was no time last night.” Her eyes landed on the vanity stool across the room. “Get a seat. Come sit with me, please.” She motioned to her side.
Millie pulled the stool across the room and sat beside Amalie. “Now, what’s this? Ye act as though ye’re scared to tell me.”
Amalie appeared doubtful. “Well, I’ve meant to do this for some time and failed to find the moment. I’ll just say it. I’ve not hidden anythin’ from you. I don’t w
ant you to feel that way.” She brushed her hand over her mouth.
Millie’s voice gentled. “Tell me, lass.” She patted Amalie’s arm.
“I’m Jewish, Millie.”
Millie jerked back and shuddered. “Ye’re Jewish?”
“Aye, my papa’s the Rabbi of Dublin.” She looked away. The shock on her friend’s face, cut to the core of her soul.
Millie recovered slowly. She scrubbed her hands down her aparan. Her voice was unconvincing. “I don’t see how it matters. Does it?”
Amalie glanced back. “Not to me. I kept it a secret, only Garth knew. I thought he wouldn’t want it known he’d married a Jew, so I continued to hide the fact. Early on, with these two,” she patted her belly, “he told me he’d send for my family, to come. I panicked, thinkin’ I’ve been protectin’ him all this time, but he said it didn’t matter. The only reason he’d kept it quiet was because I wanted it that way.”
Millie nodded, still numb. “I can see that.”
Amalie continued. “I have to tell you, before they arrive. They’re…well different than other people. We tend to dress and eat differently. Papa and my brother’s wear their hair….” She made a circle with her fingers at her shoulder. “Well, it’s different.”
Millie nodded. “We lived next to a Jewish community in Dublin, when we first married, Mr. Douglas and I did. They were nice people.”
“I’m glad you had that experience. Not everyone will be as accepting, I think.” Amalie rubbed her belly absently.
Millie stood, to get the door open for the page. “Come in here wi’ yerself, then. Set her tea there, on the table beside her. I’ll serve. Go on wi’ yerself.” She shooed him out the door and closed it. “We’ll all be fine with it, milady, I’m sure.”
“You don’t look fine with it, Millie.” Amalie pouted.
Millie sighed. “I wish ye’d told me. It wouldn’t make a difference to me. I love ye, just the same. I think my feelin’s are hurt.” She glanced down at her worn hands. “I’m sorry ye don’t feel like ye could trust me.” She met Amalie’s teary eyes.
